


My Favorite T-Shirt

by thedarkswan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Mutual Pining, Post-War, Secret Relationship, Self-Indulgent, the fluffiest of fluffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25316317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkswan/pseuds/thedarkswan
Summary: “Your heart is positively pounding, Malfoy. Afraid of being discovered?”“No one would believe me.”
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, background Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 19
Kudos: 163





	My Favorite T-Shirt

Hermione Granger was kissing Draco’s neck in the back of the Leaky Cauldron, her hands gently pinning Draco’s arms to the wall behind him. The scrape of her teeth against the junction between his neck and shoulder forced a rolling shudder through his body. She wore one of his shirts, the neckline slipping to the side to expose her delicate collarbone. Earlier, she had demanded to borrow it, citing the fact that he was technically at fault for hers getting soaked in the morning downpour. Afterall, she wouldn't have been sitting the rain if he hadn't asked her to come to watch his Quidditch scrimmage.

To be fair, she had bought the shirt for him, a t-shirt with a Muggle band he pretended he didn’t love emblazoned on the front. So technically, he supposed, she had the right to borrow it whenever she wanted. He had gladly let her steal it, time and again, secretly hoping that she would forget she had borrowed it in the first place. Logic followed if she wore it home, she would eventually have to see him in order to return it. Simple, self-serving, Slytherin logic.

Her hands slipped beneath the hem of Draco’s own shirt, fingertips skittering across his abdomen before coming to rest against his chest. A soft giggle, then her dancing brown eyes met his. “Your heart is positively pounding, Malfoy. Afraid of being discovered?”

Tugging at one of her wild curls, Draco slid it back behind her ear. “No one would believe me,” he whispered, his usual sense of self-preservation diminished in the dark. 

Her smile faded a bit, her hands clenching so her nails bit into his chest. She pressed up onto her toes and brought them nose to nose, their breaths mingling. The fronts of their bodies met in a plane of soft, warm distraction and she brushed her nose against his in a painfully sweet gesture. Surely, she felt his heart skip a beat beneath her palm. 

“Draco…” she started. He shut his eyes, desperately trying to calm himself. In the dark behind his eyelids, he swore he could still see the constellations of her freckles as specks of bursting light.

“Look at me, Draco.” His eyes snapped open. He couldn’t stop his hands from finally reaching to grip at her hips, breaking her hold on his wrists to clutch her more firmly against him. The soft fabric of his shirt bunched under his fingers, loose on her small frame. Even in the dark, he saw the way her pupils dilated at the ferocity of his need for her, the black swallowing the brown. “Draco,” she breathed, shivering.

“Don’t say my name like that, please. It… It makes me want things I shouldn’t.” 

Those owlish eyes blinked at him, once, twice. Suddenly, she jerked back out of his embrace. In her eyes, there was a flicker of that Gryffindor bravery that always led to trouble and Draco’s heart managed to trip into an even faster gallop. 

“Granger…” he murmured, trying to ward off whatever was coming. Her hand lashed out and he flinched, expecting a slap or a punch. Instead, her hand fisted in his shirt, yanking him from the seclusion of the hallway and back into the din of the Leaky Cauldron. 

He was powerless to do anything but follow her, as she dragged him in front of the crowded table that held all of their friends. Curious eyes drifted up at their approach, several brows furrowing as they took in where Hermione gripped Draco. As if the situation couldn’t get anymore more uncomfortable, she cleared her throat loudly until she held the whole table’s rapt attention. Hermione’s hand was still bunched in Draco’s shirt, preventing him from balking under the scrutiny of their friends. 

Once every eye was on them, Hermione turned her attention to Draco. She had the audacity to smirk at him before she used his shirt collar like a leash, pulling him into a kiss. Draco was so stunned his eyes stayed wide open, blinking at hers, which were still crinkled in a smile. The nip of her teeth on his lower lip startled a noise out Draco, his cheeks burning with an unwelcome sudden blush. When she pulled back, she addressed the table but kept her eyes on him. “Draco and I have been seeing each other for some time. I want to keep seeing him, but I’m sick of sneaking around. I would very much like to date him, publicly, and I’m almost certain he feels the same.”

There was the barest hint of uncertainty in her eyes. Draco could only blink at her, unable to conjure any words sufficient to follow such a declaration. Of all the ridiculous, Gryffindor nonsense to pull… 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, we know, you nitwits. You’re not exactly subtle,” Pansy grumbled, rolling her eyes. This admission drew both Draco and Hermione's attention to their circle of friends around the table. Besides Pansy, Theo was grinning like he’d just won the bloody House Cup. Blaise looked bored, but Draco could see him hiding a smirk behind his glass of firewhiskey. 

“Harry accidentally walked in on you two at the Ministry Christmas party all the way back in December,” Ginny offered. Potter glared murderously at her, mumbling something about marital vows of secrecy. “Only took about a week for that little secret to make its way ‘round the group.”

Still glaring at his wife, Potter said, “Old news, really.”

Hermione stared at the lot of them and Draco stared at her. “Right, well, in that case…” she murmured, turning to look at him again. Now, it was his turn to smirk at her, quirking an eyebrow as if to silently ask her, ‘Satisified?’ She bit her lip, trying to fight her own smile.

“Get over here, you crazy witch” he whispered to her, tugging her into him and covering her mouth with his. Distantly, he heard jeers and quips from the table, but most of his mental capacity was currently working to fight the impulse to grab Hermione around the waist and pull her back into that dark hallway to shag her senseless. He settled for resting both his hands against the side of her neck, using his thumbs to guide her jaw further up to get better access to her mouth.

“For the record,” he murmured against her lips, “I would, in fact, like to date you, very publicly. Preferably starting right now and preferably ending never.”

Hermione’s gaze bore into his, her face twitching with that insufferable, know-it-all smirk. “For the record, I’ve been stealing your shirt for months, I thought that was enough of a hint that all I ever wanted to be yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, here it is, my first ever post on AO3. Please take it easy on me :)
> 
> This little ficlet was born of self-indulgent nonsense and the song "My Favorite T-Shirt" by Jake Scott. Writing like this has been incredibly therapeutic for me and a wide step away from the type of writing I do for work, so I will likely continue on. 
> 
> This was proofread and edited by yours truly, so any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Anyways, much love in advance for any kudos or comments. 
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](https://the-dark-swan.tumblr.com/).


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